


i'll bring thunder, i'll bring rain

by Ingu



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cult Ending, Demonic Possession, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Revenge, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-09 07:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11664357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/pseuds/Ingu
Summary: Being a normal, healthy, human being, Robert Small was rightly terrified of many things. The Dover Ghost, entropy, Jacob dying without him and Stacey ever confessing their love for each other in the series finale of The Good Hunter, and now demons were also part of the list. Life was short and humans were damn squishy, a healthy dose of fear was something that kept you alive.Right now, he was terrified that Joseph Christiansen was about to die in his bed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[ART] Godspeed to us, boys.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584032) by [catgoboom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catgoboom/pseuds/catgoboom). 



> Okay, so, I don't know how this has happened but it has. Shoutout to the artists for creating [these](https://ingu.tumblr.com/post/163511791533/endrae-demon-hunter-au-demon-hunter-au-or) [two](https://ingu.tumblr.com/post/163325291828/catgoboom-me-going-through-the-stages-of-grief) pieces of art in particular which inspired this story, though the content itself is not fic-canon. Please also consider this a blanket warning because the fic will likely be referencing and implying some very dark things including but not limited to murder and violence, courtesy of (cult end) 'canon' itself. The characters themselves also have a lot of issues to work through, so whatever ends up happening will probably take a while. Of course, all of it is assuming my motivation to write stays intact.
> 
> Second shout out to [WritingCyan](http://cyanwrites.tumblr.com/) for her advice on all things medicine-related. Everything is unbeta-ed, my apologies in advance for those inevitable mistakes.
> 
> Here we go.

Robert would never call himself a fraud, not to anyone who understood the meaning, at least. And Betsy was a different story since she would never judge him. Over the course of his life he had convinced countless strangers that he was more than what he appeared. But it didn’t change the fact that he was a liar and storyteller who had never done half the things he conned them into believing.  Now, he had a new story for his arsenal that was for once, one-hundred percent true. Yet at the same time it was so ridiculous he wasn’t even sure he could quite believe it all despite living through it himself.

Demons were real, and God knew what else existed out there.

Being a normal, healthy, human being, Robert Small was rightly terrified of many things. The Dover Ghost, entropy, Jacob dying without him and Stacey ever confessing their love for each other in the series finale The Good Hunter, and now demons were also part of the list. Life was short and humans were damn squishy, a healthy dose of fear was something that kept you alive.

Right now, he was terrified that Joseph Christiansen was about to die in his bed.

After the chaos of the fight and the exorcism, he and Mary had taken the ‘vessel’ they had known as Joseph Christiansen to the safest place he could think of – Robert’s own house. In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t the safest of hiding spots, because it seemed to be only a matter of time before the authorities came knocking on a neighbor’s door. But there were only so many places you could bring a dying man in a priest uniform when you were both covered in his blood.

They had carried the unconscious man from Robert's car to his bedroom, the garage was one small mercy saving them from the awkwardness of potential witnesses. Together, he and Mary had stripped off Joseph’s clothes and cleaned up as much of the blood as they could manage. Then they’d dug through his first aid kit and patched the man – demon – thing – up as best as they could. The wound was clumsily disinfected and stitched together, then inexpertly wrapped. It was only afterward that they had cleaned themselves up, changing out of their own stained clothing and washing away the blood on their skin.

Now, Mary’s husband lay under Robert’s covers, one wrist cuffed to the bedframe, his skin and lips pale from blood-loss. It had been hours since their escape. Dawn light was beginning to filter through from beyond the curtains, and the more Robert stared the more anxious he felt. Robert Small was no doctor, but he was sure that a stab wound like that needed far more than the hasty home-treatment they had provided.

“We need to take him to a hospital,” Robert said from his seat by the bed, fingers tapping against his knee in a nervous rhythm. “He’s going to die like this.”

“Ergh, come on,” Mary said. She was curled on the sofa chair in the far corner him, feet bare, with a mug of warm coffee cradled in one hand and Robert’s gun in the other. “We don’t even know if it’s actually human. You saw what happened with the kids.”

Robert felt sick just remembering, the darkness in their eyes, their hollow voices. He’d watched them grow up. Hell, Mary had carried and given birth to them, and now… He could hardly imagine how she must be feeling, knowing that the children she had loved and cared for were little more than fragments of some demonic being, uncertain if there had ever been a real person inside of that handsome shell she had fallen in love with.

“But what if he – it – is?” Robert said, the urgency draining from his voice. God, he wanted a drink. “You saw the black smoke pouring out of him. That detective would never have let us leave if there was still demon left in him.”

“I’m not taking the risk, Robert,” Mary said quietly, and there was emptiness in her voice that gave him pause. “I’m not letting any more innocent people die.”

Mary was right, even if Robert hated hearing it. He knew of the body count. Hell, Marilyn's accident had probably… The mere thought of it made his fury burn hot in his veins. They had to be safe. They had to be sure. They couldn’t let any more innocent people lose their lives to this… thing.

Yet it looked so human like this. The soft blond hair, the sweep of pale lashes pressed against its cheeks… It seemed every bit the fragile and breakable kind of being Robert himself was. And if the man they once knew was still somewhere inside there… If the real Joseph died like this…

Robert let out a jagged sigh, sinking even deeper into his seat. “Shit.”

-

They waited.

Minutes ticked by, and then hours, uncaring of the exhaustion of the pair keeping vigil. The entire time, Joseph didn’t so much as stir, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only thing that told them he was still alive. Twice, Robert caught himself almost nodding off, waking up with a start each time as his head drooped too close to his chest.

Just before six a.m., Mary snuck back to her home. Someone still had to be around to act surprised when the actual police showed up to announce her husband was missing at sea. The weapon was placed back in Robert’s charge, and he was left alone with a stern order to call as soon as anything happened.

“Anything?”

“ _Anything_.”

It was almost eight when Robert’s growling stomach finally pushed him into the kitchen. Their prisoner still seemed to be out cold. And Robert figured he could get away with making himself a quick meal so he didn’t starve to death while he waited. Passing by a curious Betsy, he gave her a quick scratch behind the ears and filled up her food and water. Then, he shoved two slices of bread into the toaster and pulled the carton of eggs from the fridge. With a quick sprinkling of cheese, salt, and pepper, it took only a few minutes to scramble them on the stove.

With his plate of food and a fork in hand, Robert walked back to the bedroom and almost had a heart attack.

Joseph’s eyes were open, and staring blankly up at the ceiling. The moment Robert entered, they moved to watch him, and Robert was suddenly keenly aware that his gun was still tucked in the back of his jeans. The fork in his hand was the only thing he had that resembled a weapon. For a long moment, he stood there rooted to the spot, bracing for some sort of violent, instant death.

“You’re awake,” Robert said when nothing happened, the weight of that blank gaze becoming too much to bear. He was still breathing, so Robert took it as a sign that it was safe to approach. Slowly, he walked back toward his seat, hyperaware of the way Joseph’s eyes followed him. “Bet you’re not feeling too good after all that.”

Joseph stared at him, expressionless.

All of it was shooting straight past uncomfortable toward the profoundly disturbing, and a frown soon formed on Robert’s face. What was going on? He honestly hadn’t known what he’d expected when Joseph woke up, but this complete lack of reaction wasn’t it. Just to be safe, he put his plate down and pulled out his gun.

“Don’t try anything you might regret,” he said, awkwardly threatening a man who hadn't so much as blinked since Robert walked into the room.

Joseph’s eyes went to the gun, then back to Robert. He still wore that expressionless look on his face, and Robert felt increasingly silly for waving the gun around.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he mused, wondering if this was some sort of game it was playing. “What? Lost your voice?”

Joseph blinked, and all of a sudden, alarm flickered across his face. Robert let out a breath, relieved at finally seeing some sort of reaction from the man in front of him.

“Oh.” Joseph’s voice was barely more than a murmur.

“Look,” Robert said, “I don’t know what your deal is. Are you human?”

Joseph ignored his question, bewilderment in his expression as he stared up at the ceiling. Suddenly, he tried to get up, but fell back into the bed with a sharp gasp as he jostled his injuries. His free hand flew to his shoulder as his face twisted with pain.

Robert took half a step back in surprise, raising his gun.

“Fuck that hurts,” Joseph said through gritted teeth, his breath coming in harsh pants.

Robert’s eyes went wide at the unexpected sound of Joseph _swearing_. “Yeah, it would,” he said, carefully studying the man before him for for any sign of... anything. “You’ve been stabbed.”

Joseph still paid him no attention. The man was staring at his own hand like it held the answers to existence. Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist, then opened it again. He repeated the motion, over and over, twisting his arm on his uninjured side, lifting his elbow, staring at the back of his hand, then at his palm, all the while looking like he couldn’t understand what was happening.

Robert faltered, watching all of it unfold. Joseph had the look of some alien creature discovering his human body for the first time, and all of it was pointing to something deeply unsettling.

Slowly, he lowered his gun. “You okay there?”

“He’s gone,” Joseph breathed, his face steadily lighting up with wonder. His gaze flew to Robert, and there was a delight there that made Robert feel sick.

“Who’s gone?”

Joseph frowned at him, half rolling his eyes. “You know exactly who.”

“You remember,” Robert said, his grip tightening again on his weapon. “You know what’s been happening? What it’s being doing with… your body?”

Joseph tried to shrug, an attempt which was quickly aborted with a pained wince. He was still flexing his hand, fingers dancing to some kind of inner rhythm. “More or less.”

Robert lifted his gun again. “Then give me one reason I should trust you.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Joseph said, going still as he eyed Robert’s gun. There was no fear or worry in his voice, only mild curiosity, as though Robert’s answer didn’t truly matter. The man in front of him looked resigned, exhausted and weary in the same way Robert felt on the inside, and Robert has never felt so out of his depth in his entire life. Mary wasn’t here and no one had fucking trained him for a situation like this. How was he actually supposed to judge if this version of Joseph Christiansen wasn’t still dangerous? If he wasn’t just another, bigger version of those demonic children who had vanished in that in-between world? The truth was, the safest thing to do would simply be to kill him. But the last thing Robert wanted was an innocent life on his hands – _if_ there was an innocent life here in front of him at all.

“I haven’t made up my mind,” Robert said with practiced calm, knowing better than to let his frustrations show. “Do you know who I am?”

Joseph’s gaze fell upon him, and there was something soft in the way he regarded Robert that only made his discomfort grow. “You’re Robert.”

Robert let out a breath. “Okay. How much do you remember?”

“Enough to know why you’re pointing a gun at me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Who are you?” Robert pushed, gesturing with his gun to make his point. “What are you?”

“Well…” Confusion crossed Joseph’s face, as though he wasn’t sure of the right answer. “I’m… Joseph Christiansen.”

“So that’s your real name?”

“Yeah,” Joseph replied, more confident this time. “I was born with it.”

“Are you human?” Robert continued. This was progress, at least.

“Um,” Joseph’s blue eyes widened. “I… I don’t really know.”

Instinctively, Robert stiffened, taking half a step back, finger tightening against the trigger.

“I mean, you could kill me,” Joseph continued, brow wrinkling. He looked as confused as Robert was. “Just to be sure.”

Robert’s mouth fell open. “You want me to kill you?”

“Sure.” Joseph looked up at him, blue eyes clear and terrifyingly guileless.

The gun in Robert’s hand suddenly felt like it weighted a hundred pounds. He stared, speechless. “I… What happened to you?”

“I got… possessed by a demon, I guess?”

“I figured out that much,” Robert said. “How long?”

Joseph frowned, brow furrowing with thought. “I’m… thirty-eight, I think? So that’d make it around… twenty years.”

Twenty years. That went back to the previous century, back before Joseph had met him, had met Mary. Robert didn’t even want to think about what it meant for Joseph to have this trouble remembering his own age.

“But you… lived a human life before that?”

“Yeah,” Joseph said. “I mean, you know my family history, right? I grew up here in the town. My father was the church minister.”

Robert did, but some part of him had believed that it had been made up, just like everything else about Joseph’s perfect image.

“You said you used to be different,” Robert said with growing understanding, “that you always did whatever you wanted.”

Joseph smiled then, hollowness in his eyes. “Then religion found me.”

Robert remembered the embarrassed confessions of the Joseph Christiansen he once knew – the stories about his misspent youth, about how stunned everyone around him had been when he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps. The whispers he had heard of how Joseph used to be a completely different person, the rebellious wild child with his tattoos and colored hair. It had been something laughed about within the community, the passing phase of an edgy teen before he settled as a wholesome family man and grew into a respected community leader. Robert had laughed with them, disbelieving yet more than a little bit intrigued. Thinking back, it had been his urge to uncover that side of Joseph that had led to everything between them, those fleeting moments when he had thought it was love.

“How religious do you feel now?” Robert said. He didn’t know what he was feeling anymore, some mix of pity and hope and doubt that he couldn’t quite reconcile with that instinctive fear and disgust that Joseph’s face still inspired in him.

His words got him a weak smile. “I can’t say prayer has ever worked for me. Though since we’re both here and alive… maybe I should be thanking God after all.”

Robert fell silent, staring at the man in front of him and realizing that there was no way he could pull the trigger anymore. Hell, he didn’t know if he ever would’ve. Everything Joseph had said was making too much sense for him to just dismiss it all. And even if this wasn’t the truth, Joseph seemed to have no plans to hurt him. Perhaps he was too weak to fight with an injury after the being inside him had been expelled.

Or perhaps the man in front of him was just another human, and the demon’s biggest victim of all.

He lowered his gun. Joseph frowned, watching him, uncertain.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“Are you sure?” Joseph said, and the way he looked at the gun seemed almost wistful. “If it comes back, it might possess me again. It’s dangerous to let me live.”

“Fuck.” Joseph’s words only reminded Robert of how much he was not equipped to handle this conversation. “It’s really still out there?”

Joseph nodded.

Now Robert really needed a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

A shot of whiskey and a quick text to Mary later, Robert was back in front of Joseph’s bed, chewing on his cold breakfast and missing sleep. He was steadily approaching the point of exhaustion where nothing mattered anymore but closing his eyes and embracing the void. But he had to wait until Mary showed up again at the very least to decide on their next course of action.

After their conversation, Joseph had closed his eyes to rest. His face was still terribly pale, and in his alcohol and exhaustion induced daze Robert found himself staring again. With his sculpted good looks and almost translucent skin, Joseph looked almost like a marble statue, some craftsman’s masterwork. His lips would be cold to kiss, Robert thought vacantly as he took another bite of toast. He studied the line of Joseph’s nose, the angle of his jaw, the height of his cheekbones. How hard would it be to carve Joseph’s likeness out of wood?

Robert was trying to picture the process when the sound of keys unlocking the front door reached his ears, startling him from his daze. _Mary must be back_ , he thought as he got up from his chair and headed for the hallway. The plate of food was left behind him on the bedside table, close to a sleeping Joseph.

Mary was already inside by the time Robert made it to the hallway, crouched over Betsy and giving her some well-deserved attention in greeting. She still looked exhausted even after a shower and a new set of clothes, and Robert wondered if she’d even have bothered to change if she hadn’t needed to be presentable for the cops.

“He's awake?” Mary said, rising as Robert approached. She seemed distracted, and not nearly as frustrated as Robert might expect at having been left out of the interrogation. Betsy milled about their feet, sniffing for new smells.

“Was,” Robert replied quietly. “I think he’s gone back to sleep now.”

Mary nodded. “The police showed up, said Joseph’s yacht had gone down overnight.”

“Our neighbor?”

“They found him washed up on the beach, he’s been taken for treatment. They tell me he'll probably make a full recovery.”

Robert let out a breath of relief. “Alright then.”

“That detective, he was there too,” Mary continued, her expression drawn. “We had a moment to talk, and he said that Joseph should be… Joseph again.”

That explained why she wasn’t telling him off. Her body was tense, her gaze roaming about, anxious, and Robert could understand why. A part of her was probably still hoping, that after all this, there was something left of the man she fell in love with inside there. That not everything had been a lie.

How did he tell her the truth? Could he let her walk in there holding onto that false hope?

“Did you talk to him?” Mary continued, nervous. “Does he…”

“He remembers,” Robert said, his heart clenching at Mary’s look of relief. “But… it’s been going on for much longer than we realized.”

“How long?”

Robert took a deep breath. “Twenty years.”

Mary froze, stricken, and the look on her face made Robert feel like the shittiest person alive. She stared at him, as though waiting for him to laugh or break character, revealing it to be nothing more than a distasteful joke.

Slowly, the truth sank in, and Mary’s gaze fell. She took half a step back, swaying slightly. “Then I… we… we never…”

“Yeah,” Robert murmured, unable to watch as Mary’s grief played out across her features. The past twenty years of her life, her love and her family, everything she had sacrificed herself for, all of it was nothing more than a well-constructed fiction.

There was a long silence as the revelation settled between them with all of its implications.

“Well fuck,” Mary said, neatly summarizing the way both of them were feeling. She made a sound that may have been a laugh. “Well at least now he probably won’t complain about finally getting that divorce.”

“I guess.”

For a moment, there was silence. Robert hadn't the slightest idea what to say in a situation like this.

“I need a drink,” Mary said. “Do you want one?”

Robert made a face. “Probably not the best idea right now.”

Mary narrowed her eyes at him with a growing frown. “You filthy traitor. You started without me, didn’t you?”

“It was just one shot,” Robert said, rubbing his eyes. “I needed it after that conversation.”

“You and me both,” Mary said, pushing past him toward his alcohol.

-

Joseph was just stirring awake when Robert followed Mary through the bedroom door a few minutes later, and guilt stabbed through him as realized they had woken him. Joseph still looked no better, and Robert wondered again if he shouldn’t be in a hospital right now. They could explain away the stab wound somehow. Now that they knew Joseph was just a victim and no longer dangerous, there seemed to be no reason to keep him away from proper treatment.

“Hey,” Mary said, carefully studying the man in front her as she approached. Robert leaned against the far wall, not wanting to get in the way of whatever conversation was to come.

“Hey,” Joseph said, his voice a quiet rasp as his gaze settled on Mary. Robert couldn’t tell what Joseph was feeling beyond the pain etched in the lines of his face.

Mary was frowning as she looked Joseph over. “Did he give you anything for the pain?”

 _Shit._ Her words struck Robert with the force of lightning. _He completely forgot._

“Oh, uh… no?” Joseph said, blinking owlishly up at her.

Mary turned toward Robert with a look of _what the fuck_. “Are you hungry?” she continued, turning back toward Joseph. “Did he give you any food?”

“No…” Joseph said, his eyes darting to the empty plate on the bedside table. “Food would be good, actually. Sorry I didn’t… think to ask for it.”

Robert moved forward and took the plate, feeling like the Worst Person Alive under the weight of Mary’s judgement. “You guys talk, I’ll go get the food… and the drugs.”

The first thing he fetched was a glass of water and some of his best painkillers, which he left with Mary before he fled the room a second time. What sort of asshole ate right in front of an injured patient as they starved? How did he forget something as basic as painkillers? This was the exact type of thing that made him such a horrible father. Or maybe it was the other way around, the consequence of having never been around long enough to learn how to properly look after someone. Robert had no fucking idea how to even take care of himself, much less a wounded person left in his charge.

Now that Robert thought about it a bit more, Joseph would probably want some proper clothes too, wouldn’t he? All he had of Joseph’s was the priest uniform that he’d left to soak in the filled laundry sink. Robert had learned how to remove bloodstains from clothing purely so he could mess with people. Now, he just wished he’d never had to use it. There’s no way Joseph could put that back on. Robert would have to find him some of his own clothes, they were more or less the same size, it should fit.

Fighting back a yawn, Robert busied himself making food for their patient, texting Mary at one stage to ask if she wanted anything (coffee). Scrambled eggs were usually a safe bet, and everyone liked hash browns. He even cut an apple into slices and arranged it neatly on the plate. It was the type of healthy thing that Joseph, at least the old Joseph, had been into.

A memory flickered past. Breakfast in bed, tangled limbs, Joseph’s lips, sweet with the taste of maple syrup, a cute smile that warmed him from the inside out.

 _There must be a lot to sort out between those two_ , Robert thought, wondering if he should let them talk a bit longer. He considered walking to the Coffee Spoon and getting a proper cup of cold brew, knowing he could probably use the walk and the morning air to wake himself up. He felt like he was going to fall over after just one all-nighter, as action-filled as it had been. It was just another shitty way his body reminded him he wasn’t young anymore.

In the end, he walked back into the room with the plate of freshly made breakfast, as well as two mugs. One was filled with honey-sweetened chamomile tea and another with black coffee for Mary. It was as close to an apology as he could manage for his neglect.

Inside, Joseph was sitting up in bed, talking quietly to Mary who sat slumped in Robert’s seat beside him. They both looked up when Robert entered, and Robert noticed with a pang that Mary’s eyes were slightly red. She stood up as he approached, making room for Robert to hand Joseph the plate.

“Okay, I gotta go,” Mary said. “It’s going to look weird if I spend too long at your house right after Joseph is announced missing.” She took her mug from Robert, glancing at its contents before chugging the coffee with the finesse of a frat boy.

Robert looked on, used to it by now but impressed nevertheless.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” she said to Joseph as she shoved the empty mug at Robert. Joseph just nodded back, already poking a fork into his food. Robert left him with his breakfast and his tea, trailing Mary back out into the hallway.

“Half the neighborhood already thinks we’re fucking, what’s the harm in staying?” Robert said once they were alone. “Joseph could probably use a friendly face.”

Mary huffed in amusement. “What? You want them convinced that we sabotaged my husband yacht to run away with the inheritance too?”

“Why do you think I was on that pier yesterday evening?”

Mary laughed, and the sound of it lightened Robert’s heart a little. She studied him for a moment, and then pulled him in for a hug.

“Take care of him, alright?” she said. “And take care of yourself too. I’ll kill you if you let yourself get hurt.”

“I’ll make sure to die before that happens.” Robert returned, his reassurance equally nonsensical. “Sure you don’t want to stick around?”

“No, we need to keep up appearances, at least for now,” Mary said with a smirk. “I’ll check up on you guys later. As much as I’d love for you to suffer this alone, that man in there is still my husband. I feel at least a little bit responsible.”

Robert nodded. “Alright. See you later.”

Mary waved, and then she was gone.

-

Robert didn’t actually know what to do with a houseguest.  

It was part of why he had asked Mary not to leave, because he hadn’t done anything remotely like ‘hanging out’ without some form of liquid courage helping him along for at least six or seven years. Even before Marilyn had died, it had all been going downhill for a long time. Thankfully, Joseph’s main interest seemed to be in sleeping. Robert didn’t know where it placed him on the ‘horrible human being’ scale when he felt grateful for Joseph being too injured to engage in conversation.

After stealing a quick three hour nap on the couch, Robert peeked into the bedroom to find Joseph staring at the ceiling again.

“Hey,” Robert said.

Joseph’s gaze darted to Robert. “Hey?”

“Do you want some proper clothes?”

Joseph stared at him in surprise. “Uh… I- That would be nice?”

Robert took his words as permission, and walked into the room toward his dresser. Pulling open the drawers, he tugged some clean clothes from within. A worn grey shirt, and some old sweatpants, he turned and showed them to Joseph.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Joseph replied, struggling to sit himself up. The covers fell away as he pushed himself up on one elbow, revealing his bare chest and the stained bandage wrapped around his shoulder. For a dangerous moment, he wobbled, going white, and Robert lunged forward, barely getting an arm around him in time as Joseph fell against him.

“Hey… take it easy,” Robert said, carefully maneuvering Joseph so he was sitting properly. “How did you get up last time?”

“Mary helped.”

Of course. Robert swallowed, letting his hand fall away once he made sure Joseph was steady. Was Joseph’s skin too warm? Or was it just him? “Here, I’ll help you put these on.”

Thanks to Mary's courageous actions, Joseph’s right arm was completely out of commission, and any attempt at moving it made him freeze up with pain. What followed was the challenge of actually getting Joseph into the clothing. The entire experience was surreal, and not just because Joseph Christiansen was all but naked in his bed again, muscle and tattoos and bare skin on display. Robert had never had such a profoundly unsexy moment as this when the person in front of him was wearing this little clothing. Yet here he was, trying to figure out how to properly dress an injured man and not hurt him even further in the process.

In the end, Joseph had to raise one arm into the air so Robert could pull the shirt over him. Thankfully, he managed the pants himself, successfully pulling them up around his waist with one arm. Properly tying the loose strings with one hand, however, was a lost cause. So they sat low on his hips, worryingly close to slipping.

Robert stepped back, letting out a breath of relief that was echoed by Joseph when the other man finally stood before him fully dressed. There was something about seeing attractive people wearing your own clothes, the effect wasn’t half bad.

“Alright,” Robert said, meeting Joseph’s eyes. “Want some lunch?”

“Sure.”

Robert rapidly calculated his willingness to cook a second time when he was walking around on three hours of sleep. It was probably better not to burn the house down. “How about pizza?”

“Okay.”

Robert pulled out his phone, settling down on what was rapidly becoming ‘his chair’ as he found the number for his favorite delivery place. “You okay with pineapple?”

“Hm?” Joseph was still standing there, watching him with wide blue eyes.

“Do you… have a preference?” It struck Robert that pizza might not be the best food for a person in recovery. But it was a comfort food, wasn’t it? Joseph had already said yes, and it was too late to back out now.

“Oh, uh…” Joseph said, brow furrowing. “I…” he squeezed his eyes shut, obviously trying very hard to think. “Sorry, I… I don’t usually get a choice with these things. I… I don’t know? I’m happy to give it a try?”

Joseph looked terribly uncertain yet hopeful at the same time. Robert tried and failed not to stare. “You… you’ve never had a Hawaiian pizza?”

“What? No. There was some at a youth group movie night we supervised.” Joseph slowly sat back down on the bed as he tried to remember. “Maybe… four months ago?”

 _We._ Robert had a feeling that Joseph was not referring to another human when he used that word. “But you… don’t know if you like it?”

“I… well… _he_ liked it. At least he ate a lot of it. He also liked pink polo shirts and chrysanthemums.”

Yet… Joseph didn’t? Or didn’t know if _he_ liked the same things. “But… what about before? When you were younger.”

“Maybe?” Joseph said, looking lost. “I don’t know… it was a long time ago.”

Robert fell silent, speechless as he grasped for the first time what _twenty years_ truly meant. Thinking back, even Robert himself barely remembered the man he used to be, but he knew he had been different then. There had been hope in his life, the promise of a bright future with Marilyn and Val at his side. Since those distant days, it had been nothing but a slow and steady slide to where he stood now. But Robert knew that he alone was responsible for his choices, his mistakes, and for who he had become. There were lessons learned and battles won that he wouldn’t dream of trading, not even for a second chance.

But to be trapped as a passive observer in your own life, having every word and action controlled by another until you lost all sense of self and identity. _Twenty years_. That was a kind of nightmare that Robert couldn't fathom no matter how hard he tried. Joseph couldn’t seem to actually remember who he used to be, whether he enjoyed something as stupidly trivial as pineapple on pizza.

“You… want to give it a try then?” Robert said.

“Yes,” Joseph nodded. “Please.”

Robert took a deep breath, and dialed the number. Somehow, this felt like the most important order he was ever going to make in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the slowest paced fic I have ever written, but it should pick up in a chapter or two. There is actually a plot planned, whether you believe it or not. Hopefully we will get to it.


	3. Chapter 3

The food took half an hour to arrive, and by then, the two of them had migrated to the living room couch. The TV was on, playing a re-run of Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers. Joseph sat curled next to Robert, a blanket wrapped around him as he stared at the screen. Callum was screaming and wailing as Flynt tried to fight off the invisible ghosts attacking them with weaponized icicles.

“Here,” Robert walked into the room from the kitchen with two plates in hand, handing one to Joseph as he walked past. The pizza box sat on the coffee table, and Robert opened the lid, grabbing a slice for himself before he sat down on the couch. Betsy immediately sprawled herself across his lap, enjoying the head scratches he offered.

On the television, Callum was making a heartfelt speech to the ghosts, insisting that violence was not the answer to their misery. Robert had already seen the episode more than once, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Joseph finally took his eyes from the screen and turned his attention to the pizza. After a moment's hesitation, Joseph reached forward and took a slice, placing it carefully onto the plate. Then, he stared at it, deeply serious, before picking it up and taking a bite. There was no pineapple on that part of the pizza, and Robert pretended not to watch until Joseph finally swallowed a properly flavored mouthful.

“What do you think?”

Joseph was frowning, staring at slice in his hand. “It’s…”

The man’s hesitation told Robert all he needed to know. Joseph didn’t like it. And he didn’t know how to admit it without hurting Robert’s feelings. He ate far too slowly for someone enjoying his meal, his first slice barely finished by the time Robert was starting on his third. But the truth was, Robert was proud of the man for being brave enough to try it. Pineapple on pizza wasn’t for everyone, and at least now Joseph could make up his own mind about where he stood on the subject.

“It’s good,” Joseph said. “I just… I’m not sure I can handle pizza right now.”

Robert’s tumbling thoughts came to a screeching halt. Right. Of course. The heavy cheese and the grease probably wasn’t agreeing with him. Pizza hadn’t been a good idea even before they got themselves overinvested, and he had read far too much into Joseph’s very innocent actions.

“I’ll make you something lighter,” Robert said in between mouthfuls, cycling through options in his head. Soup? Sick people were supposed to drink soup, right? It should work the same way when you were wounded. “Do you want some plain bread? I can make you some soup. It should go down easier.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have much appetite.”

“You barely ate your breakfast,” Robert said with the kind of nagging worry only a Dad could harness. “You need to keep your energy up if you want to recover.”

“I’ll be fine,” Joseph said with a soft smile. “But thank you for the offer.”

Robert frowned, uncomfortable with how little food Joseph had eaten today. Most of the pizza was still sitting in its box. Joseph was a grown man, entitled to making his decisions. Still, he couldn’t shake his sense of worry as he turned his attention back to the television. Callum and Flynt were now performing a séance to the mother-ghost, in the hope that she will quell the fury of her children-spirits. Joseph settled against the armrest, seeming more than content to just keep watching television.

Robert was so withdrawn he’d turned brooding into a personal trademark. But Joseph’s quietness still surprised him. He’d almost expected that the man wouldn’t want to stop talking now that he was finally able to say and do whatever he wanted. Yet for most of the time they’d spent together Joseph sat there quietly, a passive observer of everything happening around him. Robert wondered how much of it was simply who he was, and how much of it was habit, formed across twenty years of paralysis.

Robert had a feeling he’d enjoy this quiet companionship much more if he didn’t suspect the real reasons for Joseph’s silence.

The version of Joseph he’d once known had been so different, especially when they were alone together. The jokes and back-and-forths hardly ever ended, and Robert had once prided himself for being the one to bring out this witty, daring side of their noble youth minister.

Yet in the end, the man he thought he knew had never really existed. How much of Joseph’s charm had just been manipulation, his words just things he knew Robert wanted to hear?

Soon, the episode came to an end with Callum and Flynt living to drive another day, the next one starting soon after. Just as the wheel suddenly spun out of control in Flynt’s hand, Robert’s phone pinged with a text from Mary.

_Just got some news._

Robert's eyes narrowed, and he tapped out a reply.  _What’s going on?_

_The police found evidence of embezzlement in the wreckage. Joseph’s wanted for questioning._

Robert stared at the text, and put his phone back down. He wasn't sure whether he should be surprised by how thoroughly unsurprised he was by this turn of events. Of course there had been something even more shady going on with that demon. Uncertain how to breach the topic, he turned his gaze toward Joseph for the first time in over an hour. The man was curled against the side of the couch, his eyes closed, breathing softly. Robert thought he was only resting until he saw the worrying flush in his cheeks.

“Joseph?” Robert called, straightening in alarm. The man had been doing fine a moment ago.

“Hm?” Joseph’s eyes opened slightly, his voice barely more than a mumble.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Robert moved closer, dislodging Betsy from his lap. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

“No,” Joseph mumbled, his eyes slipping closed again as he snuggled even deeper into his blanket. “This is fine.”

With growing worry, Robert closed the distance between them and pressed one hand against Joseph’s forehead. It hadn’t been his imagination earlier. He was hot to the touch.

“Shit, you’re burning up.”

Robert moved from the couch, quickly findiing his thermometer tucked in a bathroom drawer. He rubbed it down quickly with an antibacterial wipe as he walked back.

“I’m going to check your temperature, okay?”

He waited for a small nod before he reached out, holding the thermometer.

“Open up.”

Obligingly, Joseph’s lips opened, and Robert poked the tip of the thermometer into his mouth. He sat by Joseph’s side as he waited, his concern rising as he watched number climb steadily past one hundred, finally stopping at 103. Robert’s heart began to hammer as he realized what it meant.

“Hey, can you get up?” he said softly.

Joseph pushed himself up slowly, tugging the thermometer from his mouth as he moved. He squinted at the display, reading its number, though he showed no reaction to it. He seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open, and leaned heavily on his uninjured arm.

“I’m going to check your wound, okay?” Robert said.

“Yeah, okay,” Joseph said. He began to clumsily pull at his shirt.

Robert waited until Joseph had lifted his shirt past his wounded shoulder, swallowing a curse when he saw that the stain on the bandages had spread even further than before. Carefully, he undid the wrapping, trying his best to not jostle the wound and hurt him further in the process. The dressing beneath the gauze was soaked through. He had to pull to unstick it from Joseph’s skin, and Joseph jerked in pain, gasping softly as he tugged the cotton free.

The skin around the wound was swollen and an angry red, blood and yellow pus oozing from between the poorly done stitches. This time, Robert couldn’t hold back a curse.

“It’s infected." The fear that had accompanied him through the first hours returned with a renewed vengeance. This was beyond his ability to treat. All they had done in their clumsy attempts to help Joseph was to make things worse. He pulled the shirt back down, rising to his feet. “I’m taking you to a hospital.”

Joseph’s eyes slipped closed again. “Okay.”

The ease with which Joseph agreed stung when Robert knew he was the one who had let it get this bad in the first place. Joseph had been recovering so well he'd just assumed he wouldn't get any worse when he should have kept pushing for the hospital from the start. Acting fast, Robert grabbed his jacket and his keys and pulled out his phone. The call to Mary connected almost instantly.

Her disapproval was immediate the second Robert explained the situation. “What? No. Robert, he can’t go to a hospital.” 

“What are you talking about? We know he’s safe, the demon’s gone.”

“Have you forgotten the part where he’s a _wanted man_?”

With a low growl, Robert walked out of the room so Joseph wouldn’t have to listen.

“Embezzlement is a _felony_ , Robert,” Mary continued. “If the police get to him-”

“He needs a doctor!” Robert hissed, doing his best not to yell. “His wound is infected, Mary. It’s bad and I don’t have the medication to treat it. If we leave him like this he could die.”

“I know! Okay? I know,” Mary said. There was a moment of hesitation. “Look, I have an idea. I have keys to the animal shelter.”

“What.”

“The animal shelter, there’s a vet attached to it, and they have tons of antibiotics in storage.”

“You’re going to steal from the vet? Their medicine is for animals! If you give him that you could just make him even worse.”

“They’re still antibiotics, Robert, they kill the bad bacteria. It’ll work. Just trust me on this.”

“No, we’re not going to take that risk. He’s already lost twenty years of his life, Mary, I am not risking the rest of his years on drugs meant for animals.”

“Would you rather he spend the next twenty years in prison for something he didn’t do?”

“It’s better than being dead!”

“It’s okay.”

Robert froze at the sound of Joseph’s voice, the phone lowering from his ear as he turned around. Joseph was standing in the doorway, one hand pressed against the frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“I don’t need a hospital,” Joseph continued quietly, his eyes clear, “though antibiotics will probably help.”

Mary was still saying something that Robert couldn’t hear. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work, Joseph.”

“It’ll work,” Joseph said with a conviction Robert didn’t understand. “You can trust her about this.”

“You know that you’re risking your life like this.”

“I know.”

Robert stared at Joseph in disbelief, but all Joseph did was to pull his lips up in a small, reassuring smile. Didn’t his own life matter? Was Joseph that afraid of prison? Robert raised the phone to his ear, speechless in his confusion.

“Were you talking to Joseph?” Mary’s voice came over the speaker.

Robert could barely say it. “Yes. Fuck. He wants to go with your idea.”

“Attaboy,” Mary said, clearly pleased with her husband. “Okay, I’ll head over there right now. You stay with him and make sure he’s comfortable.”

“You’re going alone?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Mary snapped. “And you are not going to leave him alone when he’s that sick. Take care of him. I’ll be over with the medicine in an hour.”

The next thing he knew, she had hung up on him. Robert looked over at Joseph, who smiled at him hopefully. There was a stain at Joseph’s shoulder that wasn’t there before, and at once Robert remembered that the wound was still exposed. It probably needed to be drained or something. Shit.

“She’ll be here soon,” Robert said. “We’ll need to redress that wound.”

There seemed to be no fight left in Joseph, and he let Robert lead him into the bathroom, settling on the edge of the bath tub as Robert pulled out his rifled first aid kit. Robert hesitated as he surveyed its contents. Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing. Grimacing, Robert pulled up a search engine on his phone, trying to find some sort of tutorial that would give Joseph a better chance than what he and Mary had managed the night before.

“Do you want me to do it?” Joseph’s voice was surprisingly loud in the small room.

Roberted glanced toward him, a question in his eyes.

“I can do it, if you want,” Joseph said, his voice quiet. “I’ve done it before.”

 _Before?_ “Just how many times have you been stabbed?” There were no scars on his body. Was it to help someone else?

Joseph’s eyes went wide, his grip on the tub’s edge tightening. “More than… once?”

Robert’s thoughts immediately flew toward violence and murder, none of which were productive or useful in the here and now. He opened his mouth, half to question, half to protest. Yet as he studied Joseph, who sat there exhausted, feverish, looking like he was ready to pass out any moment, he realized that the man might really know more about treating wounds like this than he did. There would be time for questions later.

Robert held the kit out to Joseph without a word.

Joseph reached straight for the gauze, trapping the fabric between his knees and ripping it at the right length.

Robert crouched down to watch him work, waiting for a chance to help. “Don’t you need to drain the blood or something?”

“That’s what the dressing’s for,” Joseph said. He folded the gauze into neat layers with one hand. “Do you have tape?”

There was a roll of medical tape in the kit that Joseph completely ignored. It was Robert’s turn to freeze, suddenly put on the spot. “What- Like… duct tape?”

“That’d be perfect.”

Feeling completely out of his element, Robert made the walk to the garage and back to fetch the requested item. He gave the roll to Joseph, who pulled off a length and ripped it off with his teeth. Then, he pressed the strip over the gauze dressing, securely holding it in place, and pressed the makeshift bandage over his wound. Just like that, he was done.

“Huh,” Robert said as Joseph handed back the roll of tape. “So you don’t actually need those bandages.”

“Not for this kind of injury, no.” Joseph said softly. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed to be well past well his limit.

Robert let out a breath, watching him. “Alright, lets get you back to bed.”

Nodding, Joseph stood up, swaying slightly as he rose. He reached out to steady himself, and Robert reflexively caught his arm, helping him stay balanced. Slowly, he guided him back to the bedroom, helping Joseph as he climbed into bed and settled with a soft sigh.

“Thanks,” Joseph murmured, his small smile going straight to Robert’s heart.

Robert felt his lips quirking in an answer, something inside him growing soft.

-

After Joseph took more painkillers, Robert left him a glass of water and went back to his television show. If you asked him later what he watched, however, he wouldn’t remember a thing, everything around him reduced to background noise as he compulsively checked his phone for updates from Mary. Betsy’s presence and soft fur was one of the only things that helped him stay sane as he waited.

At almost three, his phone finally lit up with an alert.

 _Got the meds, on my way now_.

Robert felt so restless he went to wait by the front door, unlocking and opening it the moment he spotted Mary walking up the driveway.

“Did anyone see you?” he said once Mary was inside.

“Who cares,” Mary said, digging through her bag and pulling out two blister packs filled with green capsules. “I got the goods. Go get some water.”

“Do you know the doseage?”

“Well this dose is for large dogs, so for an adult human like Joseph… I’d say maybe three capsules, every six hours.”

Robert felt his already frail confidence shrink even further. “You sure about this?”

“I’ve volunteered there for years, I know things. Now hurry up.”

Robert did as he was told, rejoining Mary moments later with a filled glass in hand.

Joseph was sleeping when they entered the room, his breaths coming slow and evenly. Robert moved close, already regretting having to wake him. Placing the glass on the bedside table, he reached out and shook Joseph gently, frowning at how hot he was to the touch.

Joseph’s head lolled against the pillow. There was no response, and Robert’s heart plummeted. He tried again, this time harder. “Joseph?”

Nothing. Mary looked worried now too, and she moved in on the other side. “Hey, pumpkin?” she said softly. “You need you to open your eyes, okay?”

Robert bent and settled on his knees, fighting back the sick feeling in his chest as he pressed one hand against Joseph’s cheek, shaking him carefully. “Joseph, hey, come on, wake up.”

At last, Joseph cracked open his eyes, barely focusing on Robert who stood crouched before him. Robert let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, sagging with relief.

“We have the medicine, you need to take them straight away, okay?”

Joseph stared blankly at him a moment, then nodded, shifting to sit up. This time, Robert took the lead and slid an arm around his shoulder, gently guiding him upwards. Mary already had the blister pack open, and handed Joseph the pills. He slipped them into his mouth, and Robert held the glass of water to his lips, carefully tipping it so he could wash them down.

Then, he gently lowered him back onto the bed.

Joseph was deteriorating fast, mumbling something neither of them could make out before he was out again. His chest heavy, Robert walked out of the room behind Mary, who looked more troubled than he had ever seen her.

“He’s not doing too good, is he?” she said.

“You think?” Robert snapped without thinking, and winced at the harshness of his own tone. “Sorry,” he said. ”It’s been a hell of a day.”

Mary just regarded him with tired eyes that spoke to Robert’s own exhaustion. Right now, he was feeling all those missed hours of sleep with a vengeance.

“Hopefully the antibiotics will do their job quickly,” Mary said. “Has he eaten anything for lunch?”

Robert remembered he half-full pizza box, and the sick look on Joseph’s face as he ate his first slice. God, Mary was not going to be happy about this. “We bought a pizza?”

Just as predicted, Mary stared at him like he had caused her physical pain. “Fucking hell, Robert!”

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?” Robert said, already hating himself. “It’s not like I look after sick people every other day of my life.” He ate pizza when he was sick himself, more often than not.

“Jesus, fine, whatever, I’m really not interested,” said Mary. “I’ll cook something up that you can feed him with.”

Robert felt a too familiar helplessness, knowing here was nothing he could do to help Joseph right now. A little voice inside him told him that he should have just called an ambulance, that if the antibiotics poisoned him or killed him all of it would be his fault. But this was what Joseph wanted, and what Mary insisted, and now all they could do was wait and pray that the drugs made Joseph better.

For the next half hour, they busied themselves chopping vegetables and preparing food fit for a recovering patient, Mary feeding herself the remainder of the pizza as she worked. Before long, there was a pot of tomato soup simmering on Robert’s stove.  

“Make sure he eats when he wakes up, okay?” Mary said as she stepped away from the sink, drying her hands with a tea-towel. “He should be able to stomach this. Joseph… at least the other Joseph, always liked it.”

Robert, who had been staring at the red concoction in the pot, turned toward Mary. “Wait, you’re leaving again?”

“Appearances, remember?” Mary said as she grabbed her bag from one of the bar stools. “Just keep it on medium heat and remember to stir it once in a while. You need to turn off the stove after two hours. And make sure he takes the next dose of meds at nine and at three, force-feed him if you have to.”

Weary as he was, Robert tried his best to memorize Mary’s instructions. He vaguely recalled moments like this with Marilyn, as she dashed off to something she couldn’t avoid, leaving him with Val. God, he couldn’t fuck this up too. “Sure you can’t stay?”

“Robert, I am literally right next door,” Mary said with a sigh. “The boss gave me the entire next week off work after what’s happened. So just call me if you need anything, or scream really loud. I’ll hear you one way or another.”

“Alright,” Robert nodded, trailing her to the front door. “You know, if we open a hole in the fence, we can move Joseph back to your house without anyone knowing.”

“And how do I explain that to the neighbors at our next barbeque?”

“Tell them it’s the secret passage we use for our illicit smuggling ring?”

“You can tell them that, I’ll say it’s what we use for our late-night rendezvous.”

“Whatever works, babe.”

Mary huffed in soft laughter. “It’s not a terrible idea, but the cops still want to interview me about the whole embezzlement thing. It’s better if we keep him away from the house. At this rate it'll just a matter of time before they show up with a search warrant.”

Robert let out a breath, his brow furrowing. “That bad?”

“He’s been managing the church for nearly two decades, Robert, ever since his Dad died,” Mary said, the lines on her face deepening. “They’re still trying to figure out how much is missing, but they say it could be up to a million dollars, maybe even more.”

 _Shit._ Just how much had that creature been up to? Everything was turning out much worse than he had thought. “You think they’ll come after you?”

“Honestly?” Mary said. “I have no fucking clue. It’s not like I know what he did with the money.”

“Maybe we can ask the man himself once he’s feeling better.” Robert said, nodding at the bedroom door.

“Yeah. Hell, I’d be happy to run away to Margaritaville with that kind of cash myself.” Mary said, resting one hand on the door handle. “Keep me posted, okay?”

Robert nodded. Mary raised her hand in a wave. The door opened, then closed, and Robert was alone again.

-

He heard the first screams two hours later.

The instant he recognized the sound of Joseph’s voice, Robert leapt from the couch, running down the hallway toward his room. Betsy’s claws clattered on the floor as she followed after him. He threw open the door to find Joseph curled tightly on the bed, blankets tangled around his legs. His breathing was coming in short, sharp pants, his face flushed with fever. There was the sound of soft whimpers, so terrible it made something inside Robert echo with hurt. He swept forward, one hand coming to rest on Joseph’s uninjured shoulder.

“Hey, shhh…” Robert said softly, trying to rouse the man from his nightmare. “It’s okay, Joseph.”

There was no response, and only when Robert leaned closer did he hear the soft murmur of Joseph’s voice. A litany of no no no no… that shattered what was left of his resolve.

“Joseph?” Robert whispered, at a loss as to what he should do.

Joseph jerked suddenly, and another hoarse scream escaped his throat. His eyes opened, unseeing, and his breath came in harsh gasps, as though he was running away from something terrible.

“Shhh…” Robert said, climbing into the bed next to Joseph. He didn’t really know how to offer comfort, but he couldn’t do nothing, not when Joseph was hurting this way. He slipped his hand into Joseph’s without thinking, and immediately, Joseph clung onto him in a death grip. Robert stroked backed Joseph’s hair, murmuring nonsensical things, promising him that he was safe, that it’s okay now, that he’d let nothing terrible happen to him ever again, as Joseph apologized time and time again to people only he could see.

As the minutes ticked by, Robert stayed there by Joseph’s side, trying to soothe him through his terrors. He lost track of time long before Joseph finally grew quiet once more, falling back into restless sleep.

Weariness and exhaustion from the past two days tugged at Robert's consciousness as he laid on the bed, Joseph’s hand still in his. It was not long before he too, was pulled into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out [this gorgeous art](https://ingu.tumblr.com/post/164582214583/bonamana-shhh-robert-said-climbing-into) of that last scene by bona-mana.
> 
> As this got longer and longer I seriously thought about just splitting it in half, but decided to push through and finish it off in the end. This hurt/comfort section wasn't even part of the original plan, but I hope you enjoyed this self-indulgent chapter. 
> 
> Also for the love of God please dont try Mary's trick at home because what she did is 100% unsafe. Not all animal antibiotics are fit for human consumption and vice versa. Unless you are a doctor or pharmacist you may very well kill someone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to SanITYLoST2001, the first and only person to comment on Chapter 3 until aishan12. So it's for you too, buddy. I hope you enjoy.

Waking up was a kind of familiar agony that Robert hated. He surfaced slowly, relishing the heavy weight in his limbs, the cloud of lethargy swirling within his head. The bed was soft, and something was warm beside him. For a brief moment, he was sure he had brought someone home again, though he couldn’t recall who.

Robert opened his eyes, and caught sight of Joseph sleeping beside him.

The room was dark, and sometime while they were both unconscious, night had fallen outside. The smell of blood and sickness hung heavy around him. Memory of the past few days returned to him all at once, and Robert almost wished he hadn’t woken up at all. He pulled his hand away from Joseph’s, realizing that they had been holding onto each other the whole time while they slept. Unable to hold back a yawn, Robert pushed himself up, and Joseph opened his eyes below him, jostled awake by his movements. Robert regarded him tiredly, there was a little more color in his face now, and it was no longer the unhealthy flush of fever from before.

Joseph’s blue eyes found his, and his lips quirked upwards. “Good morning. Or, well, evening?” His voice was hoarse, though his smile didn’t waver.

Robert stared back, bleary eyed. “You look better.”

“Mm, I feel better.”

He lifted a hand to Joseph’s forehead, swallowing when Joseph leaned into the touch. He was much cooler than he was before.

“I think your fever’s gone down," Robert said, withdrawing his hand.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Robert said as he climbed off the bed, thoughts speeding up as he became more awake. He raised his arms to stretch, yawning. The digital clock told him it was almost ten o’clock. “I’ll get you some water, and fetch the thermometer.” Joseph also had to take more pills, and eat if he was up to it. Robert mentally recited the list, trying to keep it all in his head. Vaguely, he wondered if he shouldn't be embarrassed about falling asleep next to Joseph. But in truth, he was too exhausted to care, for Joseph didn't seem to mind.

Before long, Robert returned with a warmed bowl of soup, some toast, and the things Joseph needed. Thankfully, he had turned off the stove before he went to Joseph earlier. And in a surprising feat of ‘having-it-together’, he’d even remembered to feed Betsy.

He gave Joseph the water and medicine first, before he took his temperature a second time. It now sat only a little above 100, and Robert breathed a sigh of relief as he stared at the reading.

“Can’t believe those animal antibiotics worked,” he said, showing Joseph the reading. He’d never had to nurse anyone through this kind of injury before, but everything from Joseph’s illness to his recovery seemed to be happening faster than what he’d thought to expect.

Joseph’s smile was still as exhausted as before. “Maybe.”

“Think you’re up to eating?”

Joseph nodded, and Robert handed him the bowl and the spoon, settling down in the chair beside him as Joseph started to eat.

“God, what a day,” Robert grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He was starting to lose all sense of time with the erratic sleep he’s gotten over the past 48 hours. He usually didn’t feel this fucked up unless a phenomenal amount of booze had been involved.

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain like that.”

Joseph’s voice was tired and scratchy, but his tone was so eerily familiar that fear stabbed through Robert's heart. He turned stiffly toward the other man to find amusement sparkling in Joseph’s eyes. Robert scowled.

“Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Joseph made a face and went back to his food. He ate slowly, either savoring the taste or fighting nausea, Robert couldn’t really tell.

“You know, I never understood. What does it even mean to take ‘the lord’s name in vain’? Seems so arbitrary.”

“Well, careless speech,” Joseph said. “False promises, words of hatred, things like that. Vanity serves a selfish purpose, so you can think of it that way.”

“You just know this stuff, huh.”

“Well, the kids actually ask it a lot.”

Robert had the distinct feeling he had just been called a ten-year-old, but he was too tired and too mature to be offended. He still had questions, but he wasn’t sure Joseph was ready or even strong enough to give him the answers he was after. He studied the pattern of his bedsheets, not knowing what else to say.

“Are you eating?”

Robert glanced up.

“It’s good,” Joseph continued. “Mary made it, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Robert said. “I’ll wait after you’re done.”

Joseph nodded in acknowledgement and went back to his meal. Suddenly, Robert wondered what he was even doing, sitting here. Did Joseph want his company? Or was it him who needed to keep an eye on the man in front of him?

Most of all, would it ever stop feeling this awkward?

-

In the days that followed, Joseph’s recovery progressed in leaps and bounds. By the next morning, his fever had vanished, and by evening the same day, he was walking around the house in Robert’s robe, hair dripping from his first shower. As he pushed Joseph back into the bathroom and attacked his golden locks with a blow-drier, Robert wondered just what exactly was in Mary’s magic pills for the man to be back on his feet this quickly.

At their first opportunity, Mary and Robert refined their cover stories together. She’d stayed home that night with the kids since Joseph was away on his yacht. And Robert himself had been out in the mountains, enjoying the view and the opportunity for self-reflection the environment offered. The missing children were sent to stay with Mary’s parents in the Midwest, and she was rightly devastated at all the horrible news. Robert himself had mixed feelings for what had happened, but he regretted the loss all the same, mindful of Joseph’s children who had been left behind. True to the fickleness of human nature, the community’s support for the search effort had turned into silence as the news of Joseph’s embezzlement quickly spread.

On the third day, they received news that their neighbor had finally woken. Robert sent him a message. _Thanks for the help_.

Gradually, Robert got used to having Joseph around. It wasn’t all bad, having another person in the house. The rooms felt less empty, and the hallways less cold with an added human presence. The man was still reserved and silent most of the time, and rarely spoke unless he was spoken to. But once in a while, Robert would be pleasantly surprised by snatches of wit and humor, brief glimpses of a personality buried somewhere deep beneath the surface.

Betrayal of the worst kind came from none other than Betsy, who adopted Joseph as her own, sitting in his lap each day instead of in Robert’s. Something about better pats, maybe. Robert was too heartbroken to find out why.

Tonight, their dinner experiment was Chinese takeaway, eaten in front of the television that provided background noise in the form of a cooking competition. A young Asian man was talking about his dream of opening a restaurant inside an aquarium. He had that kind of youthful hope in his eyes that hadn’t yet been dashed by the hellfires of reality.

“So what do you plan to do with yourself?” Robert said in between bites of chow mein. Joseph was sitting cross-legged next to him, working through his own bowl of lemon chicken and rice as Betsy lay beside him. Over the last few days he had discovered a preference for sour things, drinking most of Robert’s lemonade and demolishing an entire bag of sour worms in just a few hours. Robert felt like he should be annoyed, but he was just proud.

"You’re free now, right?” Robert continued. “The world is your oyster, you can do whatever you want.”

Joseph’s gaze flickered toward Robert.

“I don’t know,” Joseph said, his brow furrowing as he poked at his rice. “I’m technically a wanted criminal now, aren’t I? I’m not sure I have a lot of choices.”

Robert frowned, that much was true. “Well, you never know. What are you good at?”

“Preaching? Perhaps? I think they won’t excommunicate me if I repent publicly.”

“Is that what you’re into?”

Joseph made a face. “It’s something I know I’m good at.”

“And you don’t have other talents?” Robert was sure he could stop being an architect if he really wanted to, but the hours were flexible and the money was too good, so he’s never really had a reason to quit. On TV, two contestants were fighting over a trout fillet, brandishing knives.

“I have a very particular set of skills…”

Joseph’s voice was barely more than a murmur, but Robert heard him nonetheless. He was almost certain that was a movie reference, from that franchise where the angry Dad rescued his daughter from traffickers like half a dozen times. Amusement stirred in his chest.

“You’re going to rescue kidnapped women for a living?”

“Hm?” Joseph turned toward him with wide eyes, his cheeks turning pink when he realized he’d been overheard. Robert smirked, it was sort of cute.

“I suppose I could, if I knew where to find them.” Joseph’s reply was not at all what Robert had expected. “I’m not bad at that kind of thing, tracking people, uncovering secrets. I wouldn’t make a bad hitman.”

Joseph spoke as though he was giving it serious thought, and a chill went through Robert as he remembered the half-screamed apologies he had heard during Joseph’s delirium.

“What?” His levity was forced. “Have you killed people before?”

Joseph’s face went blank. Robert remembered Marilyn’s accident, the hit-and-run that had never been explained. The dots were all there, waiting for him to draw the lines. Yet Robert didn’t know if he wanted to see the full picture.

The doorbell rang in that moment, it's echoes silencing whatever it was Joseph had been preparing to say. Seizing the opportunity to escape the conversation, Robert put his food down and headed for the door.

They had to be careful, in light of the ongoing search and investigation. Yet the peephole on his front door revealed neither a salesperson nor a stranger. Saul Graves, the detective who had helped them during that eventful night, stood on the doorstep. At once, Robert was certain he was here to take Joseph away.

“Mr Small?” The detective’s voice sounded through the door. “I’m just here to have a chat.”

With the lights on in the house and the TV playing in the background, it was useless pretending no one was home. Robert opened the door, leaving a layer of metal screen between them, for all the protection it offered.

“What can I do for you, Detective?” Robert said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Mr Small,” Graves said with a nod. “It’s good to see you again.”

Robert returned the sentiment. Under different circumstances he'd be inviting the man for a drink. But Graves was a police detective, and Robert was hiding a wanted man.

“You gonna let me in?” Graves said when Robert didn't respond. “It’s a bit chilly out here.”

“You say you’re here to talk?”

“That’s right. No ill intentions, buddy.”

There were few people who knew the truth about what had happened, and Graves was one of them. He was the only reason they had gotten that demon out of Joseph’s body and escaped with their lives. For that fact alone, Robert felt like he owed him some trust at the very least. They needed someone on their side if they were to get through all of this mess, and open hostility was not going to win any of them new favors.

He had to take a chance.

Wary of the danger in his decision, He unlocked the screen door and opened it, stepping aside as Graves walked into his house.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks.”

Robert closed the door and turned the lock, wondering what the man’s deal was. Accordingn to Mary, the man had apparently been spending more time with their near-drowned neighbor than he did actually investigating the case. Neither of them had expected there to be hand-holding in the days that followed, but Graves’ indifference seemed to indicate that they were just meant to figure everything out for themselves in the aftermath.

“Is Joseph around?”

“Last I heard, he was lost at sea.”

A knowing smile appeared on Grave’s face. “You know I’m not here to arrest your friend, right?”

“Then why the house call?”

“I thought he may want someone to talk to, now that he’s had time to adjust,” Graves said. “You don’t need me to tell you this, but possession like the kind he experienced is no joke. Even if you didn’t do any of it willingly it was still your hands that carried out the deeds. Maybe he’d like a veteran’s opinion on how to deal with it all.”

“Who are you?” Robert said. What Graves had done, the way he spoke, it was as though he had been going at all of this for years.

“Someone who’s been doing this been far too long.” Graves said with a sigh. “We’ve had an eye on this town for a long time, you know. The psychic energy in this place attracts demonic psychopaths like few others in this entire country. What happened with your friend isn’t even the first plot we’ve had to foil.”

“What, so there’s others like you? An entire organization, defending humanity from the horrors of the night?” A revelation like this put every conspiracy theory Robert had ever read in a vivid new light. He had guessed that there was more going on, he had been curious, sure, he had done his own digging. But to be told face-to-face by someone who had saved their lives… the ridiculousness of what had only been his own paranoia couldn’t go unacknowledged.

“Close, but not quite,” Grave said. “Look, Mr. Small, I want to put all of this behind me just as much as you do. And I’m sure your friend does too. All I’m asking for is a chance to talk to him. At the very least, you could pass on my offer, and let Joseph make his own decision about whether or not he's interested. He’s earned it after everything he's gone through, don’t you think?”

 _Well fuck._ What was Robert supposed to say to that?

-

Joseph said yes.

Robert stuck around only for the introductions, and then made himself scarce, retreating to his workroom. He messed about as he waited, wondering what was being said. He couldn't get a proper read on the guy who called himself a detective, and there was something bigger going on he itched to find out the answer to. Who did he work for? Where did he come from? Was he even a real detective? Or just someone who went around with a convincing enough badge? Graves had the whole mysterious government agent thing down pat, that was a given.

The man didn’t stay long. And before he knew it, Robert was seeing Graves to to the door. The man vanished into the night as quickly as he had arrived.

When he returned to the living room, Joseph was petting Betsy, deep in thought. The television had been left on mute, its light flickering against the walls. Robert stayed silent, not knowing what frame of mind Joseph was in right now. With nothing better to do, he considered the takeout boxes scattered across the coffee table, trying to decide what to bin and what to put into the fridge for later.

“Do you want to go cryptid hunting?” Joseph said.

Robert froze, almost certain he had misheard. “What?”

“The thing that stole my life,” Joseph said, meeting Robert’s stare with a terrifying intensity in his eyes. “I’m going to kill it.”

-

Murder had been part of the topic before Graves arrived, but this was something entirely different.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing you wouldn’t expect,” said Joseph. “He told me what happened wasn’t my fault, that I should move on with my life. How he- the _demon_ \- is gone now and can’t control me anymore. It was a very standard spiel.”

“And… what you took away from that conversation was to go looking for the creature that possessed you?”

Joseph nodded, leaning forward, and there was a new urgency in his actions that Robert hadn’t seen before. “What he said, it’s not true. He may not be controlling me anymore but he’s still _out there_. There is nothing stopping him from finding a new vessel, coming back here, and finishing what he started. So it means that unless he’s dead, none of us will be safe. Not you, not Mary, or anyone in this town.”

Robert had been trying very hard not to think about that fact over the past few days. It hadn’t helped that the only thing he did understand about the supernatural these days was exactly how little he actually knew.

“What… what makes you think you can fight him? That you can even find him? The thing could be anywhere in the world by now. It could be _anyone_.”

“No,” Joseph shook his head. “He can’t just possess anyone. They have to be special.”

“Special? Special how?”

Joseph’s expression suddenly shifted into that same terrifying blankness Robert had seen only minutes ago. A pit of dread opened inside his stomach as he watched Joseph lift his shoulders in an awkward shrug, knowing he wasn't going to like whatever he said.

"They’d have to be a Christiansen.”

Wait.

But that-

That meant-

“What are you saying, Joseph?”

“I mean… you heard what he – it – said, right? This… curse, it was something carried by my father, and his father before him for God knows how many generations. Us, the children, we were born and made to be its vessel. And if one of us died there would always be a spare waiting somewhere else in the world.”

It was horrible, it was unimaginable, and Robert hated how much Joseph’s words was making sense.

“But then... your children.” Those black-eyed beings that had unknowingly helped them win the battle, had Joseph been one of them somehow? Once upon a time? Was he still-

“I don’t know how to help them, Robert. That other plane, the in-between, it did something to them, and I don’t fully understand it.”

“And… your own father?” Robert vaguely remembered, the man had died when Joseph was still only a teenager. It was the reason Joseph took over the church.

“Happy nineteenth birthday to me, right?”

So Joseph had been possessed on that day? Had the demon killed his father to silence him? Or did it use Joseph to do the deed himself? “And this… this is why you said you didn’t know if you’re human?”

Joseph nodded, fear emerging in his eyes as he witnessed Robert’s reaction. “I... I don’t... Robert. I don’t know what I am. I mean-” Before Robert’s eyes, he raised his right arm, the one that had been crippled since the stabbing. Then, he lifted his shirt and ripped off the tape, pulling away the dressing. Where there should have been a healing wound was a scar that already looked several weeks old. Joseph had gotten rid of the stiches himself without Robert ever knowing.

Robert gaped at him, unable to believe his eyes.

“Come on, Robert, you of all people should trust that I’m telling the truth.”

“Look, I’m… perfectly happy to support plausible theories backed by believable evidence, but…”

“What more evidence do you need?”

Robert didn’t reply, still trying to wrap his head around everything, the things he had seen that night, Graves words, and now Joseph’s, the healed wound at his shoulder.

Joseph sighed. “Look, I’m not asking you to help me. But you need to understand what is at risk. I am not going to let him hurt you, or Mary, or my siblings, or anyone else.”

The conviction Robert found in those blue eyes was forged from fire and steel. And in that moment, Robert felt something shift within him, a keen awareness of something he had known for a long time but had never quite grasped until now. The man in front of him was not the same as the man he had once known. They had the same face, the same body, but the person behind those blue eyes was someone wholly new.

This was the real Joseph Christiansen.

 _Oh fuck it._ Robert thought. He wasn’t going to let Joseph face this alone. Not when the demon was likely the very thing that killed Marilyn. The moment he left his house that night to join Mary, he had signed up for this, even if he hadn’t known it then. This was just as much his fight as it was Joseph's or anyone else’s.

“If you’re going after this demon," Robert said, "then I’m coming with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And cue the PLOT. I can't believe it took this many words to finally get here, but we made it guys, we made it. Now I just have to keep this up and write the rest of it. Wish me luck.

**Author's Note:**

> In case I convinced you otherwise I actually have no idea what I’m doing, this is an adventure for both of us. I can promise that Joseph does actually have a personality, it’s just going to take him a bit of time to find it again after so long.
> 
> If you have any thoughts about the fic, please don't hesitate to share them below! Comments are soul food for the writer. And feel free to come shout about dads with me at my [tumblr](https://ingu.tumblr.com/).


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